


Distraction

by Griselda_Gimpel



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Genderqueer Character, M/M, Other, Romantic Comedy, Sex Work, former drawer fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26303215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griselda_Gimpel/pseuds/Griselda_Gimpel
Summary: Saito needs a distraction, so he hires Eames, only to find distractions within his distraction.
Relationships: Eames/Saito (Inception)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Distraction

Eames lounged in a chair on the rooftop porch of his new house in Mombasa. The sun was just getting up over the horizon, and a light breeze was coming in from across the ocean. In his hands he held a newspaper. One story in particular caught his attention, as it concerned someone he was personally familiar with. Phrases jumped out at him.

“…Saito, Proclus Global CEO, received medical attention yesterday evening…”

“…struck by Enrique Soto of Soto Enterprises…”

“…charity event hosted by Mr. Soto and his wife Veronica…”

“…will not be pressing charges. Mr. Saito was quoted as saying…”

If Eames sometimes had to look the larger words up in the dictionary, he never had any difficulty reading between the lines. So it did not surprise him a great deal when he received a phone call from Saito the next day.

It was another beautiful day, and Eames was again on the porch when his phone range. He did not question how Saito had obtained the number.

“Morning.”

“So you are awake? I was afraid that I had called too early.”

“Not at all. How’s the eye?”

“Healing. So you’ve heard the news?”

“Uh huh. So how are things between you and Veronica?”

For a moment, there was silence on the other line. “Is it that obvious?” Saito asked finally.

“Call it a guess. Know who told Mr. Soto?”

“Cobol Engineering?”

“Seems your lady friend didn’t support one of the plans of Cobol Columbia.”

“And Veronica is up for reelection this year.”

“On a platform of traditional family values, I hear. And in regard to why you’re calling, that’s _all_ I’ve heard. Your name’s only been mentioned in connection Veronica’s. And no one’s so much as looked at me the wrong way. I talked to Yusuf. He said it’s been the same for him.”

“That is good. I would not want anything to interfere with my purchase of Fischer-Morrow. But it is not why I called.”

“Hm?”

“It is in regard to how things are between Veronica and me. We have stayed away from each other. This is not the sort of interest that a Senator running for re-election wishes to attract, and it is not in the interest of Soto Enterprises and Proclus Global, either. The press can make guesses, too. It’s been a nightmare.”

“So what is it that you want from me?”

“A distraction.”

Eames sat up straight. “A blonde sort of distraction?”

“Perhaps. I am also partial to brunettes.”

Eames smirked. “You got an Architect?”

“As it happens, Ariadne is in Tokyo now. Work-study program. So? Can you help me with your expertise?”

“Mmm.” Eames leaned back. He was thinking of snow and of Saito offering to take Fischer down the mountain, despite his injury. He’s just been playing before that, in the elevator. But Saito had just been a tourist then. Things had changed. Plus, he’d never been to Japan before. “Sure,” he said finally.

“Excellent. I’ll arrange your flight.”

~~~

It was in this manner that Eames found himself touching down in Japan less than two days later. Saito had arranged for a man to meet him with a car, and a few hours later Eames walked through the door of Saito’s castle estate. He gave a low whistle of appreciation.

“Nice place, isn’t it?”

Eames turned to see Ariadne enter the room. “Yes, it is.”

“Good to see you again, Mr. Eames.”

“Likewise.”

“You have any idea what I’m going to be building? Is this another job?”

“That’s up to Mr. Saito,” Eames said. “Where is he?”

“His bedroom. He said that he wanted to talk to you, and then you and I would get together.”

“Lead the way.”

Saito’s bedroom had a table with two chairs. Eames took the empty one, and at Saito’s nod, Ariadne reluctantly left. Eames grinned as soon as she was gone.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“I’d like to keep this between the two of us.”

Eames laughed and then ran his eyes up and down Saito. “Then I suppose the question is: blonde or brunette? Or did you want me to do Veronica?”

Saito looked faintly disturbed and almost ill. “No, no. Just use the same form you used in the hotel.”  
“Blonde it is then. So what’s the scene? Elevator?”

“I was hoping for there to be a bed.”

“An elevator can have a bed. Or a trampoline! Have you ever done it on a trampoline?”

“Let’s stick with the bed, and an elevator will do nicely then. One with lots of mirrors.”

Eames nodded. “Anything else?”

“No, can you think of anything?”

“Lighting?”

“Lighting?”

“What do you want the lighting to be? Bright? Low? None at all?”

“Low. I want to be able to see you.”

“And what do you want me to be wearing?”

“The same little black dress. Though I don’t intend for you to be wearing it for long.”

“No, I don’t imagine that I will be. And what will we be doing?”

It took Saito a quarter of an hour to explain it all, and Eames gave another low whistle when he had finished.

“Time to go to talk to Ariadne, then,” he said. “What time do you want me back here?”

“Seven o’clock. Dinner will be brought up.”

The conversation with Ariadne did not take long.

“Basically,” Eames explained, “I need the elevator from Arthur’s hotel.”

“Then why didn’t Saito get Arthur?”

“Because I’m a Forger. Arthur is not.”

“But why does Saito need a Forger?” Eames could hear the frustration in Ariadne’s voice.

“That’s irrelevant. I just need to know the design of the elevator. Except it needs to have a bed.”

“A bed?”

“Yeah. I big brass one, real old fashion like. Comfy, with lots of pillows.”

“Why would an elevator have a bed? Oh, fine. I see that you’re not going to tell me.” And with that Ariadne explained how she and Arthur had designed the elevator. Pulling out her notebook, she made sketches of various bed designs until Eames found one to his liking.

And so it was at ten minutes to seven that Eames washed his hands and joined Saito for supper in his bedroom. It was a candlelit meal, and the food was good. Afterwards, Saito pulled out a PASIV and laid it on the bed. He and Eames began hooking themselves up. The sedatives were light. They would only be under for seven and a half minutes, real time.

“I’ll see you in the dream, Mr. Eames,” Saito said, and put them under.

~~~

Saito arrived in the dream standing in the elevator in front of automatic elevator doors that didn’t open. Eames arrived lounging on the bed, looking exactly as he had when Cobb had needed him to distract Robert Fischer. Saito was wearing a formal suit. He began unbuttoning his jacket, and then paused.

“This looks different.”

“There’s a bed now. Come on, try it out.”

Saito frowned. “No, not that. This elevator, it looks different.”

Eames glanced around. The elevator in Arthur’s dream had been meticulous. Neat. Brand new, yet classical. Eames’ elevator was different. It was larger than most elevators, with a higher ceiling. The ceiling door, like the main door, was fake. They led nowhere because nothing existed outside of the elevator. The ceiling was solid. No electrical wires ran inside the walls. And yet the elevator was moving, upward, at a gentle speed. “Oh, that. Well, I’m not Arthur, now am I?”

“So different,” Saito marveled. “Remarkable. But I am wasting time, aren’t I?” A gentle smile followed this, and Saito slipped off his jacket and shirt and pants and Eames watched from his position on the bed. Shortly after that, Eames was no longer wearing the little black dress.

There were kisses and touches and then a voice interrupted, “But will he be a better lay than me? That is the question, isn’t it?”

Saito sat straight up, moving off of Eames and turning. Sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs bouncing, was Veronica Soto.

“Veronica?” He caught himself. “A projection.” A flush of embarrassment came to Saito’s face. “I do apologize, Mr. Eames.”

“ _Mr._ Eames? Then you do know that what you’re seeing is only an illusion?”

Saito’s smile was strained. “I like this illusion.”

Eames rolled his eyes. “There’s no use arguing with yourself. Come on, suppress her already.”

Saito looked hard at Veronica and concentrated. Nothing happened.

“Maybe you should try thinking about elephants,” Veronica suggested, her tone tauntingly sweet.

“At least…” Saito groped for the rest of the sentence. “Stand in the corner or something.”

“Fine,” Veronica conceded. Slipping off the bed, she leaned against one of the mirrors. Saito turned deliberately back to Eames, but there were mirrors in front of him, as well. As Saito trailed a finger along Eames’ thigh, he could see Veronica watching him watch her watch him touching Eames. Saito forced his focus on Eames’ eyes, lips, breasts, as elephants stampeded through his thoughts.

But Saito couldn’t keep his eyes off the mirrors forever. When he looked up, he expected to see Veronica, but it was Robert Fischer whose reflection he saw. From beneath Saito, Eames was laughing.

“Eames,” Saito inquired tensely, “Why is there a projection of Fischer in our private dream, and why is he wearing… _that_?” Fischer was wearing an early 1900’s style striped bathing suit. There was a goggle mask (with snorkel attached) pushed up on his forehead, flippers on his feet, and an inflatable yellow tube in the shape of a duck around his waist.

The only response he received was more laughter.

“I could go stand in the corner,” Fischer suggested softly.

“Make him disappear,” Saito insisted. He suppressed the urge to laugh himself. It wasn’t that it wasn’t funny; it was that it wasn’t the right time.

“Fine, fine,” Eames said, his laughter finally dying down.

Fischer was already standing beside Veronica. “So what are your thoughts on Keynesian economics?” he asked conversationally. Then he was gone. So, Eames noted, was Veronica.

Saito took a deep breath, trailing his fingers along Eames’ stomach. After a minute, he was calm again and getting back in the mood. Things were just about to get good when Saito caught a glance of a figure in the mirror. He turned his head.

A projection of Ariadne was sitting nervously on the edge of the bed.

“Eames…” Saito hissed, but Eames wasn’t laughing. He was pushing himself up on his elbows, looking at Ariadne curiously.

“I didn’t bring her,” he said flatly.

“Well, she’s not my projection,” Saito said.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Eames cocked his head. “Ariadne?”

“Eames?” Ariadne half said, half asked. The statement-question came out in a near squeak. “Saito. Oh, um.”

Saito began fumbling for the sheets. He managed a particularly large pillow. “This is a private dream!” he hissed. Eames cheated by simply imagining his dress back on.

“Yes, sorry. I just…Eames wouldn’t tell me what you were doing, and I wanted to know.”

“Get out of my head! Now!”

“But the door doesn’t work. And I didn’t bring a gun. I’ll, um, go stand in the corner until the sedatives wear off.”

“This was not how I envisioned this going,” Saito said, sitting on the bed with the pillow in front of him. “The mirrors were clearly a mistake.” He glanced at Eames next to him. “You can change back to your real form if you’d like.”

Eames shook his head. “That’s not my real form. That’s just how I look when I’m awake.”

From the corner, Ariadne asked, “Is this how you wish you were?” Saito glared at her, but Eames answered.

“Sometimes,” Eames said. “Not always. There are a thousand different ways I want to look. I like variety. But Saito likes me like this.”

Saito asked hesitantly, “Is that wrong?”

Eames shrugged. “It’s your money.”

“Ah, of course,” Saito said. The disappointment in his voice was palpable. Eames sensed it and regretted his flippant words. He laid a hand on Saito’s shoulder and gave it a soft rub.

“You want it to be more than that?”

“I do,” Saito said softly. “I like Veronica but-” He hesitated and then spoke firmly. “She is a married woman, and she has no desire to leave her husband. It would never work.”

“Oh dear,” Ariadne muttered. “I really am intruding.”

“In that case,” Saito said, before he lost his nerve, “would you like to extend your stay at my castle?”

“As long as you install better locks on your doors,” Eames said, giving Saito a kiss on the cheek.

“I am so fired,” Ariadne moaned.


End file.
